


It's Not Stalking If It's Christmas

by Redlance



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Merry Pitchmas Gift Exchange 2018, Social Media AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redlance/pseuds/Redlance
Summary: Beca stumbles across the Instagram page of a pretty, redheaded photographer.





	It's Not Stalking If It's Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGrimLlama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrimLlama/gifts).



“What are you doing?”

 

Beca startles at the sound of Jesse's voice, slamming the lid of her laptop shut and then quickly swivelling in her chair to stare at him with wide eyes.

 

“Dude,  **knock** !” Her heart is thundering in her ears and he’s just leaning against the doorframe wearing the same infuriating smirk she’d once found charming.

 

God, she’d been an idiot.

 

“Uh, this is my house,” he reminds her, laughing, and Beca balls up the napkin that had come with her take out and hucks it at him.

 

“We’re roommates, asshat. Just because you technically lived here first-”

 

“And gave you a break on rent the first few months while you went and made a name for yourself, which actually ended up being about a year.”

 

“Do you want back pay? Because I swear to god, if it’ll get you to stop bringing it up, I’ll go to the bank right now.”

 

“It’s one in the morning.”

 

“I’ll find an A.T.M.”

 

"I don't think they'll let you take that much out in one go." He drops down onto the humongous bean bag chair that promptly starts to envelop him and gestures grandly at her. "You mean to tell me the famous Beca Mitchell doesn't sleep on a pile of cash?"

 

“I sleep with a knife under my pillow. So, like, think on that.” Her threat lands on amused ears and Jesse doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash at it. Instead, he just stares at her with the kind of eerie patience that makes her skin begin to crawl.

 

“Were you social-stalking her again?” he asks and, even though Beca had been half expecting it, she still bristles like a disgruntled porcupine.

 

“Oh my god.” She drags her toes across the floor to turn herself away from him. “Shut up.”

 

“You were! Why don’t you just D.M. her?”

 

“Because that’s creepy.”

 

“How is that any creepier than obsessively checking her Instagram feed every five minutes.”

 

“I do  **not-** ” Beca cuts herself off the second she realises he’s just trying to get a rise out of her and she swipes her tongue across the front of her teeth, then takes a breath before trying again. “I don’t want to be that weirdo celeb that hits on their fans. That shit’s gross.”

 

“I never said anything about hitting on her.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

She doesn’t even remember how it started.

 

Except that’s a lie and she totally does.

 

‘@1000words’ had popped up in the comments of one of Beca’s Instagram posts a few weeks ago. The photograph had been one she’d taken herself, a nicely framed shot of the woods not far from their house at dusk. The comment had simply read, “Nice composition!!!!” To be honest, it wasn’t all that different from the rest of the comments that post received. Not that Beca is the kind of person to actually read every comment.

 

  1. She’s too busy for that, usually, and
  2. That would be obsessive.



 

But for whatever reason, this one had grabbed her attention. Or, more specifically, the icon attached to it had. Also a tree-filled image, but this one featured a female figure standing a ways away from the person taking the picture, holding a camera to her face and aiming it at something out of frame.

 

Maybe it’s the way the light hits the hair in the photo, maybe it’s just that it’s a really nice image. Maybe it’s because Beca has a penchant for redheads and they tend to grab her attention. All Beca knows is that she’d clicked on the username and fallen down a hole filled with photographs of nature and animals and, oh, yes, a recurring red-haired woman with a smile that could outshine the sun.

 

Everything has kind of devolved from there.

 

Biting the bullet, Beca lifts the lid of her laptop and waits for the screen to come to life.

 

“But, like,  **look** ." She points at something that Jesse can't read from where he is and so he tries to get up in order to walk over and see, but getting out of a bean bag chair is harder than it should be. Beca rolls her eyes and instead just reads aloud. "She's a professional photographer and shoots like, whatever pays the bills, but she has her own website for her ‘true passion'." Beca pauses. "She takes photos of dogs." She stares at him, a little puppy-eyed and helpless. "The site's called 'Phodography', dude."

 

“Oh my god,” Jesse beams. “That's adorable.”

 

“I know!” Groaning, Beca leans heavily against the backrest of the chair and covers her face with her hands. “I'm such a creep.”

 

“You're not a creep,” Jesse pushes, chuckling, and when Beca dramatically drags her fingers down over her face she sees him smiling at her. “Just message her and tell her you dig her dog photos.”

 

“Is ‘dig’ an optional word choice here, ‘cause….” She lets the sentence hang and has to duck out of the way when Jesse throws the tissue projectile back at her.

 

“Let me put it this way,” he says after a moment, popping a few M&M’s that have magically appeared in his hand into his mouth. “If you don’t message her, I’ll break into your computer and do it for you.”

 

“Break into?” Beca huffs, unworried. “I think I’m safe from your computer skills.”

 

“Ah, but are you safe from Benji’s?” Jesse’s retort is enough to give Beca pause because, no, she doubts she would be safe from Benji’s skill. However, he’s also the sweetest guy Beca has ever met and can’t imagine he’d do anything so sinister. Still.

 

“I hate you.” She lets out a loud groan and turns to stare at @1000word’s - whose actual name is Chloe, according to the brief bio underneath her icon - profile page. “What do I even say?”

 

**DJBee** : Hey! I just wanted to say that I love your website. All your photographs are great, but your love for animals really shines through in those ones. :)

 

“Dude, are you sure? Isn’t the emoji a bit-”

 

**1000words** : OMG!!! Hi!!!! :) :) :)

 

“Oh. Nevermind.”

 

**1000words** : Holy CRAP!! :D This is amazing!! I LOVE you!!!!

 

“That didn’t take long.” Jesse’s voice is suddenly right in her ear and Beca has to grit her teeth and tense all of her muscles to stop herself from jumping violently in her chair.

 

“ **Now** you can get up?” Beca throws him a dirty look over her shoulder and he shrugs.

 

"It's a Christmas miracle. Now, shut up, she's typing something."

 

**1000words** : That’s so nice of you!! I can’t believe you actually went to my website. =”}

 

“What’s that?” Beca points at the odd set of characters at the end of the sentence and Jesse mimics her action as he explains.

 

“It’s embarrassed. Eyes, blush, mouth.” He ruffles Beca’s hair. “You’re so old and cute.”

 

“I’m two months younger than you.” She taps her fingers across the keyboard without making any strokes. “What do I say now?”

 

“Ask her if she’ll photograph you like one of her french bulldogs.”

 

“Okay! Get out!” Beca stands and throws all of her weight behind a shove that sends him stumbling backwards. Clearly, it isn’t hard enough, because she’s still laughing. “I hate you. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

 

“You let me talk to you into a lot of stuff.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at her and Beca shoves him all the way out through the door before slamming it in his smug face. “Good luck!” His yell is muffled through the wood and Beca doesn’t bother replying, instead turning to stride back towards her desk with a newfound determination that deflates the instant her ass hits the seat.

 

“Shit.” But no. No, she could do this. She didn’t need Jesse Swanson Cyrano de Bergerac-ing this for her. She can talk to people. She talks to people all the time.

 

**DJBee** : Well, it’s an awesome website.

 

“Shit.”

 

**DJBee** : And I love dogs.

 

“Who doesn’t love dogs?”

 

**DJBee** : You really know your way around a camera. :)

 

“Jesus Christ.”

 

**1000words** : Well, I'd hope so since that's kinda my job. ;P

 

Beca smiles despite herself.

 

> **1000words** : Seriously, though. You must be super-duper busy, so it's really cool that you took the time to check out my site. :)

 

And sure, yes, Beca’s busy. She’s working on a new album and her manager is driving her crazy, but she still has  **some** time. It’s not like she doesn’t. There’s downtime in between recording and, say, being driven across the city and stuff. It’s not completely unusual for her to do things like peruse a website.

 

Biting her lip, Beca opens up a new tab and types in the first two letters of the Phodography website, hitting enter when the address auto-fills after that. She spends a few moments clicking, copies the link at the top of the page and then navigates back to the messaging screen.

 

> **DJBee** : I think this one is my favourite.

 

She pastes the link into the dialogue box and waits for the preview image to load before sending it. Immediately, she can see that Chloe is typing a response and refuses to be privately embarrassed by the way her heart rate spikes. She doesn’t even know this person.

 

> **1000words** : I love that one too!!!!! Barkley is SO sweet!!!! And @perfectpitch is actually my best friend!!
> 
>  
> 
> **DJBee** : Oh, so do you do a lot of stuff for friends and family too?
> 
>  
> 
> **1000words** : Only the special ones. ;)

 

Embarrassingly, Beca feels her cheeks start to burn. She's suddenly incredibly glad she'd forced Jesse out when she did. And she wants to say something suave or smooth, or competent at the very least, but she doesn't  **know** Chloe, regardless of how much she may want to.

 

“I really am a creep,” Beca groans, dropping her face into her hands and pushing away from the desk with her foot to put some distance between herself and the computer. She stares up at the ceiling, silently berating herself for listening to Jesse, like she doesn’t know any better, and closes her eyes when she hears her computer chime its familiar notification alert. Once, twice, three times.

 

Curiosity eventually gets the better of her.

>  
> 
> **1000words** : Do you have a dog?
> 
>  
> 
> **1000words** : Maybe I could take their picture some day.
> 
>  
> 
> **1000words** : If you wanted. :)

 

Beca stares at the screen, rereads the messages, and has three entirely separate, albeit miniature, panic attacks.

 

She does not have a dog.

 

She’s reminded of how awkward she is in front of the camera and, even though there’s no mention of her photograph being taken, she’s suddenly terrified of the prospect.

 

She  **does** want.

 

> **DJBee** : I do not currently have a dog, no.

 

Honesty is good, she thinks. Not borrowing someone else’s dog and pretending it’s actually yours in order to spend time with a pretty redhead is probably also good. Her hands hover over the keyboard for a handful of seconds then, before she bites her lip and decides that a little overly-confident flirting could be good, too.

 

> **DJBee** : But you’ll be the first to know when I get one. ;)

 

Too bad her hands are shaking at her types it. Thankfully, Beca Mitchell has always appeared more confident when there’s a screen blocking her view of the other person.

 

> **1000words** : Well, I better be. If I see photos of you walking a dog in People magazine, I’ll be very upset. ;P This is a verbal contract and I am not an easy person to get rid of.
> 
>  
> 
> **DJBee** : Do you threaten all of your prospective photographees like this?
> 
>  
> 
> **1000words** : Only the ones I really like.

 

Beca lets out a surprised little squeak and, heart thumping, she calls out to Jesse who she’s sure is still standing in the hallway.

 

“Hey, can we get a dog?”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
